You spend 23 straight hours in a chatroom with your friends. You know them. You know their children. You've heard all the details about their marriage (it's crumbling) and their career (they are all doctors, lawyers, successful writers and artists) and their many Nobel Peace Prizes. You can count on them to always be there...be there for you. It's a wonderful feeling to cruise into a chatroom and have everyone call your name...sort of like "Norm!" on Cheers.
     The thing is, your name really isn't "Mr. Wonderful" or "orchid" or "Thor, God of Power and Light." If you do achieve an extreme chatroom intimacy where people actually know what your first name is, seldom do they know your last name, or you theirs, and very often, they don't care. And you shouldn't either.
     I think everyone goes through the same process when they first get on-line and find the wonderful cyber world of chatrooms and email lists. They get this picture of what everyone looks like by their chat handles, but rest assured, "Bambi" isn't the blond bombshell you envision her to be; she doesn't work in a high-class strip club as an exotic dancer, nor does she drive a red, convertible Porsche. She's 45, weighs 190 pounds, has three unruly teenagers, and is married to an alcoholic. She works for the phone company. She's disillusioned with her life, unhappy with her husband, exhausted with her children, and frustrated with her job. When she gets on-line, she becomes "Bambi." This is her escape. She has an on-line persona that allows her to step out of her boring, exhausting life and become the bombshell she wants to be--living the life she wants to live.
     That's the reality on-line. Anyone can be anything they want to be on-line. They can say anything, tell you everything you want to hear, declare their undying love and friendship to you, and *poof*.... with the click of a button, they can disappear out of your life forever. Gone. Now, consider this: "Bambi" might not even be a woman. "She" could be a troll (a man posing as a woman looking for lesbian cyber sex). "Bambi" could actually be a 50-year-old retired Army officer. "Bambi" could be a 12 year old--male or female, the scenario is ugly.
     Email lists run about the same way, but can be sadly more damaging. Let's say you've joined a "Philosophical" email list that engages in daily diatribes regarding life, love, spirit, etc. The exchange between members seems to be more "involved." You get to know what people are thinking, how they'll respond. You get the sense that you know the members of your list. But trust me, you don't know jack about them. You might know what they think, but you don't know who they are. "Charles," the man who seems so eloquent and articulate, could be a sociopath with no real friends who drinks too much and hangs out at elementary school playgrounds during his free time. Or he might be an average guy who works and takes care of his family, goes bowling with his buddies. What you actually know of him is that he's smart, intelligent, opinionated, and knowledgeable. That doesn't translate very well into imagining him taking out the garbage, arguing with his wife, scratching his butt, and falling asleep on a ratty old recliner chair with his mouth open. Because you have built this person up in your mind, he becomes like a god. His word is gold. He is all knowing and powerful.
     And then one day, he's dead. You haven't seen drama until you've lived through a chatroom or email list death. It can get really good, and when it happens to you, you should sit back and just enjoy it for what it's worth. Trust me, the dead guy is loving every bit of it. Here's what they do: "Angel" has been a regular in your chatroom for months. She's established relationships with you and your friends (and in cyber-time, that takes about four days). Things start to get hot and heavy between "Angel” and "FUSION." Fusion wants to meet Angel. She is everything he's always wanted in a woman--sweet, young, smart, professional, single (she's actually 37, is online so much because she has no real friends, is copying most of her statements out of a quotes book, has been married for 18 years, and works at a convenience store). Fusion tells Angel he wants to fly out to visit her. He can't stand it any longer. She tells him she can't wait. They discuss the details and finalize their plans. And then, a few weeks before Fusion is to meet her, Angel "disappears." She's not coming into the chat room anymore. Fusion is worried. He pops into the room just to say, "Has anyone heard from Angel?" No one has. They are all worried. A few days go by and still no word. When the tension and drama has built up to the boiling point, a "relative" of Angel's pops into the room, miraculously at the precise time that all Angel's friends are in the room, and says, "I hate to be the one to tell you all this, but Angel died two days ago...she was on her way to an outing with her Church Youth Group and was struck down by a drunk driver. I know how close you all were to her and thought you'd want to know...I'm sorry."
     The shock is usually such that people don't wonder about this "relative" that they've never heard Angel mention before or the fact that he or she had to log into the chat room, register a handle, and find the room that Angel frequented. I can tell you right now, my family doesn't know the chat room I visit, and even if they did, logging in there to tell a group of strangers that I died would be the last thing they'd do.... especially two days after the funeral.
     What I do when I'm in a chatroom where this drama is unfolding is post a private message to the "bearer of bad news" that reads: "Good, I never liked that bitch anyway."
     Now, chathouse and email list terminal diseases aren't quite as exciting because, well, nobody ever dies from them. These people usually develop brain tumors or cancer to bilk sympathy from their fellow chatters and list members. Everyone is usually very sweet to them and if anyone gives them trouble, the entire room/list will go to battle, with someone usually writing to the offender privately with a little message that reads: "Please stop being so mean to her....she has a brain tumor."
     Unfortunately for them, I'm an RN and just a few questions will usually nail them to the cross. One woman told me she had brain cancer. I asked, "What type of brain cancer?" She left the room. Another time a woman told me she had a tumor and would probably be dead in six months. I asked her what kind of tumor it was.
     She said, "I don't know. It's in my head."
     Well, when a doctor tells anyone they have a tumor, they're not likely to forget the name. I asked her if it was a Wilm's tumor.      She said, "Yes, that's it!"
     I said, "Man, if you've got a Wilm's tumor in your head, they're probably going to want to do a case study on you."
     "Why?"
     "Because Wilm's tumors are malignant kidney tumors found in children. You'll be dead in six days!"
     She left the room.
     One woman told me she was a doctor. I asked her what her specialty was.
     "Respitory."
     I told her it was spelled r-e-s-p-i-r-a-t-o-r-y. She left the room.
     You'd think these morons would do their goddam research. The bottom line is that people are going to engage in some serious mind fucking with you. You must always keep in mind that nobody is who he or she says they are, or certainly not who you think they are. With all the lies and drama and bullshit that goes on, you must always remember that it is all happening in the little box. It's not real. The truth is out there, but it is definitely not in a chatroom.